


Bringing it to the Net

by sunshineinwriting



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Orgy, PWP, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinwriting/pseuds/sunshineinwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boston Bruins congratulate Matt Fraser on his overtime winning goal in the 5/8/14 playoff game against the Canadiens. Public locker room sex happens.</p>
<p>Seriously. That's all that happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing it to the Net

**Author's Note:**

> Ahahahaha yeah. So. I was watching the video of Matt Fraser's game-winning goal (multiple times) and when the whole team comes out on the ice to congratulate him, of course the first thought in my mind is "They'd better reward him and Tuukka well for that!"
> 
> So. In honor of the abso-fucking-lutely amazing game last night, I wrote three pages of public sex where Matt and Tuukka basically reward themselves for their play. In the locker room. Because yes.

“Good job, Fraser.”

“Sweet goal, buddy!”

“Way to make your playoff debut, huh?”

Matt grinned dazedly and accepted all of the backslaps and taps to his helmet, still riding the high of scoring the _overtime goal_ , the _only goal of the game,_ the fucking _game-winning goal_. In his fucking playoff debut. What the fuck.

The whole team was loud and rowdy as they stripped down and showered, buzzing and happy about tying the series, and Matt rode the high along with them, feeling almost drunk even though he hadn’t had even a touch of alcohol in celebration. It wasn’t until the press was gone and only a few of the guys were leaving and Dougie sidled up to him and said, “Hey, Fraser,” that Matt realized that maybe something was up.

“’S up, man?” he said, looking around. Most of the older, married members were clearing out with oddly knowing looks and comments, but the younger teammates were sticking around, chilling, talking to each other but keeping part of their attention…on him.

Dougie grinned at him, his blond hair still sticking to his forehead from his shower. “Great job tonight.”

“Thanks,” Matt said cautiously, still looking around. “Uh.” Now every player in the room was looking at him, quiet.

“You deserve a reward,” Tuukka said, and Matt turned to look at him. The goalie was sitting slouched in his stall, legs lazily spread open in front of him, a satisfied, anticipatory look on his face. “You and me, we did good tonight. So we get rewarded.”

Dougie placed a hand on Matt’s stomach, rubbing slow circles just above his cock. “So what do you want?”

“Are you shitting me?” Matt breathed, looking around. All of the guys were staring at either him or Tuukka, and Matt could finally identify the weird tension in the room: arousal. He’d known about the rewards system—he’d received a couple in the past for really exceptional games, down in Providence and before in high school—but he’d never expected the _Bruins_ …he really got to…?

“Tuukka,” he said, and then flushed.

The goalie arched an eyebrow, looking a little surprised. “You sure?”

“I mean—” Matt fumbled, “if that’s okay—”

Tuukka shrugged, a long rolling motion that ended with him sitting up straight, hands on his knees, eyes dark and focused. “Come over here, then.”

Matt stumbled across the locker room, the boys murmuring around him, a soft sound of growing excitement as the arousal in the room ratcheted up. Dougie crowded at Matt’s back, his 6’5” frame radiating heat all the way up Matt’s body. The winger came to a halt directly in front of Tuukka, breath short, standing barely within the goalie’s spread legs.

“Well?” Tuukka asked, raising an eyebrow again and leaning back. “What do you want?”

Matt swallowed. “Can I suck you?”

Tuukka let out a short bark of laughter. “Not what I was expecting you to say, but go ahead.” He didn’t make another move, just watching Matt.

Matt swallowed hard and knelt, hand going to Tuukka’s belt. The goalie was already quite interested in the proceedings, the long line of his cock clearly visible through his underwear. Within a few moments that hard cock was in his mouth, and Matt moaned.

“Ah, fuck,” Tuukka said softly, and gripped Matt’s hair in one hand. “Not usually what people choose for their reward, rookie. Dougie—” Tuukka gasped and his hand tightened as Matt made a muffled noise around his cock, “want to help the kid out?”

“My pleasure,” Dougie purred, and Matt gasped as he felt hands yanking his pants and boxers down and a large hand wrapping around his hard dick. He could hear indistinct sounds of arousal from the other guys around the room, all of them releasing some of their post-game adrenaline either with each other or with their hands.

It made Matt’s own arousal burn white-hot at the thought that he’d done this, given this powerful hockey team this win during the Stanley Cup Playoffs, in his first ever major league playoff game. And this goalie, this enigmatic, dark-eyed goalie, had given them a shutout, taken them all the way to overtime and made it possible. Matt sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and using every trick he’d learned from a lifetime in locker and dorm rooms to make it amazing for Tuukka.

From the noises he was hearing, he was doing a pretty good job. But Matt’s attention was quickly divided as Dougie wrapped a slick hand—lube? They’d been _prepared_ —around his hard cock and began stroking firmly, his own erection a hot line against Matt’s ass.

“Amazing out there tonight,” Dougie rumbled, his free hand wrapped firmly around Matt’s hip, rocking slowly against him almost as if they were fucking. “Right where you needed to be, got it right into the back of the net.” His hand rolled Matt’s sac in a loose grip, and Matt whined around Tuukka’s cock. “If we weren’t in the playoffs I’d fuck you right here,” Dougie panted, and oh fuck, if only. Matt hadn’t gotten off with anything other than his own hand in too long. He redoubled his efforts on Tuukka, wanting the older man to come first.

Lube dribbled down his bare ass, trickling down his crack and sliding across his hole. Matt made an inquisitive sound, but Tuukka had both hands buried in his hair now and was nearly face-fucking him at this point, so he couldn’t see what Dougie was planning. Over the slick sounds of Tuukka’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth and his own ragged breathing, Matt heard the clink of Dougie’s belt and felt a brief flash of worry. Dougie had just said that they couldn’t fuck because of the playoffs…

Then more lube was poured onto his ass and smeared between his thighs, and Matt understood through the haze of arousal clouding his brain. He tried to get his legs together, but Dougie ended up doing most of the work, pressing Matt’s thighs together and sliding his cock in between, hunching over Matt’s back and thrusting as if he really was fucking into the forward’s body. One big hand wrapped back around Matt’s bobbing dick, and Matt whined, body jerking from all of the stimulation.

“Good,” Tuukka suddenly said, mostly quiet up until that point. His voice was hoarse and breathless, and Matt took him in a little deeper in response. “Good, rookie—I’m gonna…” Four thrusts later and the goalie pulled Matt off, decorating his face and neck with spurts of warm cum.

“Fuck,” Dougie ground out, moving faster at the sight, and Matt let out a loud broken whine at both the feel of the other man’s cock thrusting between his thighs and the hand wrapped around his own erection. His mouth and throat felt raw and used, swollen, and his whole body was hot and tingling, riding the high of hot sex after an amazing game. Matt dropped to his elbows, sticking his ass up further in the air and letting his head hang as he moaned hoarsely and came, spattering the locker room floor with his cum.

“Ah, shit,” Dougie swore, rutting faster and faster between Matt’s thighs as his own orgasm rose. Matt let out a low whine, his body twitching and oversensitive, and Dougie pulled back and shot his seed all over Matt’s ass. It dripped down, warm and wet and filthy, as Matt let himself fall onto his side, panting and trembling in the aftershocks.

The locker room was silent except for the panting of the players spread around the room, all basking in the mixed afterglow. Finally Tuukka sat up and patted Matt lazily on the head where he was still lying on the floor.

“Nice work, rookie. Let’s kill it on Saturday too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So...yeah. I have the biggest hockey boner for Tuukka Rask. Like, legit I think he's the best player in the whole league. (Does it show?)
> 
> If you're reading this, thank you for getting through my shameless self-congratulatory porn. I hope you liked it. I FEEL NO SHAME. (^o^)v


End file.
